The Princess Of Dol Amroth
by Mermaid Sushi
Summary: The story of Lothiriel, the Princess of Dol Amroth, from a few years before The War Of The Ring up until she finds romance with the Marshal of The Mark...
1. Prologue

20 years after the birth of Lothíriel. The year 3019 of the Third Age. The South of Middle Earth is in disarray; Mordor is preparing its final assault on the world of men. The garrison of Osgiliath is weakly binding the forces of Sauron, and is the last defence against the Dark Lord's forces before they are unleashed on the world of the good folk.  
  
Chapter One- Departure  
  
A dark haired man had walked into the large stables of the Dol Amroth Palace. Wearing a mail hauberk and a exquisite sea blue tabard with the swan crest of the seaward tower, this figure could easily be identified as a monarch of Dol Amroth. He was re-adjusting his vambraces, and then went on to check that his horse was suitably just for travelling.  
  
Imrahil was preparing to go to the White City of Gondor. He had heard of the ill news there. Denethor, son of Ecthelion, and the ruling Steward of Gondor had been rumoured to have turned mad with his grief, and so Imrahil felt it was his duty to aid the White City's rule in the dark time that was looming before their feet.  
  
Imrahil did not wish to go at all; it meant he would have to leave his eldest, Elphir on the throne temporarily. Although he trusted Elphir, tutoring took years and whilst Imrahil was seeing to the defences of Minas Tirith, there was always the threat of pirates from the East launching an attack back home. It would take someone strong to maintain the defences he had built. Imrahil did not doubt Elphir, but he also strongly hoped that his other three offspring would aid their brother.  
  
He hoped Lothíriel would help out of the three younger siblings the most. She needed to show her true colours. Lothíriel was too quiet for a girl of her age, she sewed and wrote, and sat on the sidelines at any major ball Imrahil decided to hold. Much interest there was in his only daughter, Imrahil thought, from lords, who wished to court the girl, and, ladies who wished to engage in a friendship. But Lothíriel remained quiet and she did not seem interested at all. She talked randomly to maids who cleaned her chambers, and stable boys who tended to her horse.  
  
Imrahil sighed and buckled his saddlebag to his stallion.  
  
"Ada? You are to depart so soon?" It was Lothíriel. She had quietly walked up behind her father, giving him a small fright. She looked incredibly small compared to him, Imrahil thought. He was wearing restraining armour, but she was wearing a simple dress and shoes.  
  
"Ai, daughter. Even though I would like to postpone it longer, the White City needs our support," Imrahil replied, leaving his horse in its enclosure and walking to where his daughter was. He took her petit hands in his and smiled at her. "I will not over-do affairs there, though. I wish to spend time at my home with my family," he said.  
  
"Why dress in the garb of War, father?" Lothíriel said, eying Imrahil's broadsword on his belt and the ceremonial swan-shield leaning against a post. She then put a hand on his mail-clad shoulder. "I do not see why you should promote it to other equivalents to yourself." She said, taking a step back. Imrahil had detected a hint of irony in his daughter's voice.  
  
"You know why I ride to the Capital, my daughter. Ill news is heard from there. We must stand strong against those that stand against us," Imrahil stated. Lothíriel could easily master a simple debate with her father when she wanted. Imrahil walked back into his horse's enclosure. He patted the steed's nose.  
  
"Why cannot Elphir, or a representative go?" Lothíriel asked, straightening her mid-blue skirts. Imrahil looked across at his daughter. She looked thin. Her dark thick hair was curtaining any visible expression that she wished to show. It was brushed neatly past her shoulders and to her waist. She wore no jewellery at all. Nothing. None of the necklaces that he had lavished upon her. But when she moved her head up, he noticed that she wore, as usual, Tinneth's broach. It was always there, staring at him in the face. A beautiful reminder of his wife, that Lothíriel always had with her.  
  
"Because I only trust it upon myself to sort out this business." Lothíriel opened her mouth in slight annoyance,  
  
"Elphir is trustworthy, he-"  
  
"It would be wise for me to go myself, Lothíriel. I do trust your brother, it would just be better for me to go." Imrahil said. Lothíriel nodded slowly and gave her father a small embrace.  
  
At that moment, a stable boy came in and bowed to the two monarchs.  
  
"My lord, the escorts await your departure." And with that, he left.  
  
Imrahil turned back to his daughter.  
  
"I have said my goodbyes to Elphir, Erchirion, and Amrothos. And goodbye, Lothíriel. I will be back before long." Imrahil kissed his daughter's forehead, and then mounted his horse. With one swift nod, he cantered out of the stables and into the bright sea air of the courtyard.  
  
Lothíriel watched the silhouette of her mounted father make his way out of the stables, and then the hefty screech of the Great Gates. She just hoped that war would be fair to her father and the kinsmen that travelled with them. Imrahil would most probably participate in the ongoing war. Her heart felt heavy with the woe that would befall her country if Mordor won the battle.  
  
Lothíriel stayed in the stables for a while. She sat on a bail of hay and had a long think about the war to the East. She had been told what was happening at her request. Lothíriel wished to know what was happening; she had always had an inquisitiveness for things that happened outside the walls of Dol Amroth, rather what was happening inside them.  
  
Imrahil had latched onto this curiosity and after a while, brought Lothíriel back small gifts and trinkets from the places he visited. She now had a small shelf by her bed, packed to the edges with tokens from towns and cities. Among them all, Lothíriel's favourite was a carved horse. It was a small wooden statue of one of the Mearas of Rohan. It was perfect; down to the horsehair mane and tail, all a sandy white. It truly was a lovely figurine. Imrahil had acquired it on a stay at the Golden Hall at Edoras.  
  
Because of her Meara figure, Lothíriel had always been intrigued with Rohan. In her younger years, she had always asked her father what it was like there when he went on his visits. He had told her of the Rohirrim, the Riders of Rohan, and their beautiful steeds that they cherished so much, about how each small village had its own éored. It fascinated Lothíriel to the point that when she reached 16, Imrahil gave a horse of the Rohirrim to Lothíriel. It was the exact colours to her little figurine as well.  
  
Lothíriel wondered if she would ever go to the land of the Horse Lords. She wondered if she would ever venture anywhere. She longed to return to the White City as well for a visit. Faramir wouldn't be there though. He had been sent out long ago with the Rangers of Ithilien.  
  
Lothíriel got up and brushed any remains of the hay from her skirts. She then started to walk back towards her chambers. She had decided that she was to get changed and go for a ride on her horse that she loved so much. 


	2. Chapter One: Departure

20 years after the birth of Lothíriel. The year 3019 of the Third Age. The South of Middle Earth is in disarray; Mordor is preparing its final assault on the world of men. The garrison of Osgiliath is weakly binding the forces of Sauron, and is the last defence against the Dark Lord's forces before they are unleashed on the world of the good folk.  
  
Chapter One- Departure  
  
A dark haired man had walked into the large stables of the Dol Amroth Palace. Wearing a mail hauberk and a exquisite sea blue tabard with the swan crest of the seaward tower, this figure could easily be identified as a monarch of Dol Amroth. He was re-adjusting his vambraces, and then went on to check that his horse was suitably just for travelling.  
  
Imrahil was preparing to go to the White City of Gondor. He had heard of the ill news there. Denethor, son of Ecthelion, and the ruling Steward of Gondor had been rumoured to have turned mad with his grief, and so Imrahil felt it was his duty to aid the White City's rule in the dark time that was looming before their feet.  
  
Imrahil did not wish to go at all; it meant he would have to leave his eldest, Elphir on the throne temporarily. Although he trusted Elphir, tutoring took years and whilst Imrahil was seeing to the defences of Minas Tirith, there was always the threat of pirates from the East launching an attack back home. It would take someone strong to maintain the defences he had built. Imrahil did not doubt Elphir, but he also strongly hoped that his other three offspring would aid their brother.  
  
He hoped Lothíriel would help out of the three younger siblings the most. She needed to show her true colours. Lothíriel was too quiet for a girl of her age, she sewed and wrote, and sat on the sidelines at any major ball Imrahil decided to hold. Much interest there was in his only daughter, Imrahil thought, from lords, who wished to court the girl, and, ladies who wished to engage in a friendship. But Lothíriel remained quiet and she did not seem interested at all. She talked randomly to maids who cleaned her chambers, and stable boys who tended to her horse.  
  
Imrahil sighed and buckled his saddlebag to his stallion.  
  
"Ada? You are to depart so soon?" It was Lothíriel. She had quietly walked up behind her father, giving him a small fright. She looked incredibly small compared to him, Imrahil thought. He was wearing restraining armour, but she was wearing a simple dress and shoes.  
  
"Ai, daughter. Even though I would like to postpone it longer, the White City needs our support," Imrahil replied, leaving his horse in its enclosure and walking to where his daughter was. He took her petit hands in his and smiled at her. "I will not over-do affairs there, though. I wish to spend time at my home with my family," he said.  
  
"Why dress in the garb of War, father?" Lothíriel said, eying Imrahil's broadsword on his belt and the ceremonial swan-shield leaning against a post. She then put a hand on his mail-clad shoulder. "I do not see why you should promote it to other equivalents to yourself." She said, taking a step back. Imrahil had detected a hint of irony in his daughter's voice.  
  
"You know why I ride to the Capital, my daughter. Ill news is heard from there. We must stand strong against those that stand against us," Imrahil stated. Lothíriel could easily master a simple debate with her father when she wanted. Imrahil walked back into his horse's enclosure. He patted the steed's nose.  
  
"Why cannot Elphir, or a representative go?" Lothíriel asked, straightening her mid-blue skirts. Imrahil looked across at his daughter. She looked thin. Her dark thick hair was curtaining any visible expression that she wished to show. It was brushed neatly past her shoulders and to her waist. She wore no jewellery at all. Nothing. None of the necklaces that he had lavished upon her. But when she moved her head up, he noticed that she wore, as usual, Tinneth's broach. It was always there, staring at him in the face. A beautiful reminder of his wife, that Lothíriel always had with her.  
  
"Because I only trust it upon myself to sort out this business." Lothíriel opened her mouth in slight annoyance,  
  
"Elphir is trustworthy, he-"  
  
"It would be wise for me to go myself, Lothíriel. I do trust your brother, it would just be better for me to go." Imrahil said. Lothíriel nodded slowly and gave her father a small embrace.  
  
At that moment, a stable boy came in and bowed to the two monarchs.  
  
"My lord, the escorts await your departure." And with that, he left.  
  
Imrahil turned back to his daughter.  
  
"I have said my goodbyes to Elphir, Erchirion, and Amrothos. And goodbye, Lothíriel. I will be back before long." Imrahil kissed his daughter's forehead, and then mounted his horse. With one swift nod, he cantered out of the stables and into the bright sea air of the courtyard.  
  
Lothíriel watched the silhouette of her mounted father make his way out of the stables, and then the hefty screech of the Great Gates. She just hoped that war would be fair to her father and the kinsmen that travelled with them. Imrahil would most probably participate in the ongoing war. Her heart felt heavy with the woe that would befall her country if Mordor won the battle.  
  
Lothíriel stayed in the stables for a while. She sat on a bail of hay and had a long think about the war to the East. She had been told what was happening at her request. Lothíriel wished to know what was happening; she had always had an inquisitiveness for things that happened outside the walls of Dol Amroth, rather what was happening inside them.  
  
Imrahil had latched onto this curiosity and after a while, brought Lothíriel back small gifts and trinkets from the places he visited. She now had a small shelf by her bed, packed to the edges with tokens from towns and cities. Among them all, Lothíriel's favourite was a carved horse. It was a small wooden statue of one of the Mearas of Rohan. It was perfect; down to the horsehair mane and tail, all a sandy white. It truly was a lovely figurine. Imrahil had acquired it on a stay at the Golden Hall at Edoras.  
  
Because of her Meara figure, Lothíriel had always been intrigued with Rohan. In her younger years, she had always asked her father what it was like there when he went on his visits. He had told her of the Rohirrim, the Riders of Rohan, and their beautiful steeds that they cherished so much, about how each small village had its own éored. It fascinated Lothíriel to the point that when she reached 16, Imrahil gave a horse of the Rohirrim to Lothíriel. It was the exact colours to her little figurine as well.  
  
Lothíriel wondered if she would ever go to the land of the Horse Lords. She wondered if she would ever venture anywhere. She longed to return to the White City as well for a visit. Faramir wouldn't be there though. He had been sent out long ago with the Rangers of Ithilien.  
  
Lothíriel got up and brushed any remains of the hay from her skirts. She then started to walk back towards her chambers. She had decided that she was to get changed and go for a ride on her horse that she loved so much. 


End file.
